How Beautiful is the Silvergrey
by Zvezdana
Summary: We all know Hermione knew Lupin was a werewolf before the others did. Well, what if he bit her? After&durring Hogwarts, RLHG, final battle, the effects, but VERY different from most....
1. The First Real Meeting

She knew it was wrong, she knew it was dangerous, but she just had to see.  
  
Hermione had always loved wolves, they were her favorite animals. When she went to muggle school her research papers were always on them. And now, now she had a chance to see her first ever real werewolf.  
  
She had stolen Harry's invisibility cloak and was on her way to visit her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the middle of the night of a full moon. She was pretty sure it was relatively safe. Harry had told her about the potion he'd seen Snape give Lupin and she was pretty sure it was the Wolfsbane potion (she'd seen an article about it in Ars Potiana magazine). She should be safe.  
  
Hermione crept toward his office door and tried the handle cautiously. Locked. Taking out her wand, she murmured alohamora and felt the handle twist and open under her hand. She slipped inside quietly and shut the door behind her with a click. She removed the invisibility cloak, knowing werewolves could see a hazy outline of the person under one, and did not like the thought of someone trying to hide. She tiptoed around the shabby desk standing in the middle of the room and bent down to see her professor curled under it.  
  
He looked so beautiful, laying there, his fur soft and silvergrey in colour, streaked with pale brown like sunlight on fallen leaves. She stretched out her hand, and lightly, ever so lightly, touched his muzzle and went to stroke back toward his forehead.  
  
But he woke up. Seeing her, he seethed forward and knocked thirteen year old Hermione to the ground, jaws dripping saliva. Hermione was terrified, she couldn't reach her wand!  
  
She did the only thing she could think of, whopped him on the snout and scrabble up to leave the office, as she ran for the door, the wolf caught her are and she saw blood. Tearing her arm away from his jowls, she ran out the door and slammed it behind her. Leaning her back against it she cast a locking charm before registering what the blood might mean. She fainted.  
  
Hermione did not know how late into the night it was when she awoke, she was only glad she had not been caught. Scrambling, she made her way back to the Tower, briskly told the fat lady to shut up in five different languages, then fell into her bed in the dormitory. Her last thought before sleep took her was God bless time turners. 


	2. Complications of the day

The first thing, Hermione thought, Is to get a hold of the Wolfsbane potion. Well, at least how to make it. And, the major problem with that is...the Library wouldn't have it. Not even in the restricted section, because according to what Harry told us, it's a new discovery.  
  
She was sitting in Professor Bins' class, taking notes without thinking about them and trying to figure out what to do about her 'problem'. All she knew was that the Time Turner would help her. She wouldn't be going back in time to try and stop herself, of course not, because that had not happened, and she would have seen herself if it did. No, she was going to go back in time and back in time and reuse every minute of everyday until she had successfully found the Wolfsbane potion, and hopefully until she made it.  
  
She had been surprised at her reception when she entered Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It had been utterly...indifferent. Well, it wasn't as though he completely ignored her, but he did act as though he had no inkling of what had happened last night. But then, perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he did not remember anything that took place during his transformations. Or perhaps he did not care.  
  
She had not done quite as well today as she normally did, and her Professor had turned those sad, empathetic eyes on her and asked if there was anything wrong. Most of the class had left the room by that time and Hermione looked at her Professor in disbelief.  
  
"Yes professor, yes, there most certainly is something wrong...!" she raged quietly at him. How could he not know? But he looked so pained, so inviting for her to tell him more...tears welled in her eyes and she charged away, feeling lonely and misunderstood.  
  
The strangest part of her day, though, was Potions. When she walked into the room, Snape's enourmous nose sniffed as if on its own accord and his features took on a grimace of displeasure. It wasn't his normal look of disgust, the one he gave Harry or most of the mudbloods (he hadn't given it to Hermione for a long time, she believed he had come to respect her), no, this was a look of utter hatred mixed with a pinch of prejudice and a dash of fear. His shiny black eyes fixed on her and Hermione was paralyzed with the thought that he knew. Hermione scuffled to her seat and subconsciously rubbed her arm, which she had bandaged that morning.  
  
That was another problem, what to do about her injury. She couldn't go to Madame Pomfry, because than the whole staff would know and Hermione didn't think she could handle Professor Flitwick's sympathy or Snape's extra scorn. And what about her friends? She was pretty sure they wouldn't abandon her, but what would they do? They would want to comfort her, especially during the somewhat painful (at least that's what she had read) transformations, but she could hurt them. She could turn them into werewolves, too. And that would not be good, especially for Harry. Could you imagine? All You-Know-Who would have to do to conquer the wizarding world would be to wait until the full moon and attack while Harry was out of commission. No, Hermione couldn't tell them, she couldn't tell anyone.  
  
She would, however, need to find a recipe for that potion. It wouldn't be in the Daily Prophet, it didn't print that sort of thing, she would need to find some sort of potions magazine, which meant she would need to snoop around Snape's desk.  
  
She waited until dinner was almost over, informed Harry and Ron she was going to the bathroom, and dashed out Great Hall. Once there, she pressed her back against the wall and turned the Time turner a few times. She was rushed backwards through the whirling colours of spacetime until she appeared outside the Hall again a little after dinner had started. Hermione ran to the Potions class room and started rifling through Snape's desk. There. There it was. The copy of Ars Potiana which had the Wolfsbane potion in it. She had seen it before, while flipping through magazines during Divination (she would never do that in a real class, but Divination hardly counted). Grabbing a scrap of paper, she took a quill from Snape's desk and scrambled to copy it down. Voices in the hall, only a few, so it was probably just a few students leaving dinner early. She heard shuffling behind her. Snape's office. Oh, no. He must have another way in. The handle of the inner door was turning. Hermione threw the desk back together, knowing it looked nothing like it should have and dashed out the door.  
  
A/N: Thank you for all though few of your lovely reviews. I apologize for the short chapters, they will get longer once I have time to think about them, but I wanted to get this one out before I lost any of my reviewers ;-). Anyway, I know this chapter isn't half as well written as the first, but I'll fix it up when I get a chance. Please review! Zvez 


	3. Tea with the Headmaster

Wham! Hermione ran straight into her very tall, forboding, slightly slimy potions professor. He looked down his rather large nose at Hermione, who hunched her shoulders and imagined herself smaller than she was.

"Miss Granger," his voice sounded like a particularly cold, thick, slimy poison, "_what_ were you doing in my classroom?"

"Ummmmmm." She responded intelligently. "I was looking for some notes that I dropped earlier," she waved the scrap of parchment at him, "I got them, so I'll just go now…" She was almost two feet away before he had snatched the parchment from her hand. He read it quickly, holding it high above her head.

"Miss Granger," his voice, which had been cold a moment ago, was now fraught with malice and disgust, "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"No," she said, in a very small voice.

"If you or one of your," his upper lip curled, "_friends_ is cause of danger to the students of this school, it would be prudent to tell someone in authority."

"Yes, professor." He black eyes continued to bore into her, and Hermione wondered if it was too late to run away.

"Severus!" Her heart leapt as she recognized the tired yet good-natured voice of Professor Lupin. "Intimidating students again?" He smiled benignly at both of them. Snape seemed to be supressing a laugh.

"Lupin, perhaps _you_ can shed some light on this," he thrust the parchment scrap into Lupin's hands. Hermione studied her shoes, trying to decide if ink rubbed across the black leather would conceal the scuff marks.

"Hermione," said Lupin quietly, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Before she could think properly, Hermione did a rather obvious double take. She allowed her jaw to drop and stared, disbelieving, at her defense professor. "I think," Snape gleefully intoned, "We should all go to the Headmaster's office." He swished between them, batlike robes billowing.

Hermione and Lupin exchanged the sort of look twin cookie-thieves exchange when their mother catches them.

* * *

"Severus! Remus! Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise." Albus Dumbledore greeted them from behind a particularly dainty teacup. "Please, have some tea." Three teacups appeared, dark blue ones in front of Lupin and Hermione, an elegant pink one before Snape, who sneered.

"It seems, Headmaster, that Miss Granger has a problem, and that Lupin, here, may be the cause of it," Snape was no longer hiding his glee.

"She doesn't look pregnant," said Dumbledore.

Hermione spit tea across the room and a melodious tinkling sound joined the air when Lupin dropped his cup. Even Snape looked taken aback.

Dumbledore smiled. "You all looked so serious, I thought a humourous comment might clear the air. Now, what seems to be the problem, Miss Granger?" He leaned forward, his sparkling blue eyes inviting her to confess everything.

The air, which hadn't cleared at all, seemed especially thick. Trying not to look in the headmaster's eyes, Hermione whispered, "I don't have a problem, professor." After a too-long silence, she looked up to see his sparkling eyes still observing her intently.

"Severus, Remus, if you could wait outside for a moment, I would like to speak to Miss Granger in private."

* * *

Five minutes later, the griffin-guarded door sprang open. Dumbledore, looking very sad, emerged, Hermione behind him, again trying to be very small.

"Severus, would you please escort Miss Granger back to Griffindor Tower, I believe it is past her curfew. Remus, please come inside, there is something we need to discuss."

When Snape abandoned Hermione at the portrait of the Fat Lady, he said, "If I catch you endangering _anyone_ in this school, Miss Granger, I will _personally_ see to it you are expelled." He stalked away with an unusual spring in his step.

A/N: Hello again! I'm sorry I haven't updated for so long, thank you for the occasional reminder to update! I will try to update more often, especially if you review.

P.S.: I have never been flamed, so I would be delighted if someone would flame me, whether or not they believe what they say. Thanks! Zvez


	4. A Secret's No Fun

Chapter Four

_A Secret's No Fun_

"Professor!" Hermione whirled around from the open portrait hole to shout at Snape's back.

"Yes, Granger?" his 'yes' hissed sinisterly through the air.

"Who was in your office?" Snape arched his thick eyebrows disdainfully, "I mean, I was leaving your classroom because the door to your office was opening, and when I got to the hallway, you were there, so you couldn't've been in your office."

"You obviously imagined it." He turned and billowed away before she could respond. Hermione pursed her lips and entered the Common Room.

* * *

Dumbledore had been completely off the mark when he said it was past Hermione's curfew. It was, in fact, half past seven. Harry and Ron were playing chess, the fallen pieces idly shredding corners of the boys' Divination homework. 

"Where've you been?" Ron asked when she sat beside him.

She searched for an answer that wouldn't be a total lie.

"She was in the library, Ron, where she always is. Knight to E5." Harry explained annoyedly.

"Are you sure you want to do that Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Ron's bishop beat the knight to a bloody pulp. If wooden chess pieces had bloody pulps. "I don't like that one." Harry's other pieces booed him.

Hermione sighed. She had thought it would be difficult to conceal her secret, but it appeared Harry and Ron hadn't noticed, and if they didn't, no one would.

* * *

To Hermione's complete and utter shock, someone _did_ notice a change in her, and it wasn't a changeshe had suspected. 

"Oh my God, you like him, don't you?" Lavender Brown's eyebrows wiggled suggestively at Hermione across the dorm room they shared.

"Who?"

"Professor Lupin!" Lavender squealed, "You've got the hots for him!"

"_What?_" Hermione squeaked.

"Come on! You've been _staring_ at him during class! Oh Hermione, I can't tell you how glad I am. I was beginning to think you, like, didn't have hormones or something." Hermione gaped at her.

"Oh, it's okay. Everybody thinks he's cute. He's kinda…ruggedly handsome, like this!" Lavender whipped a trashy romance novel off her bedside table to show Hermione. Because it was a wizarding book, the picture on the front cover was particularly interesting. Hermione blanched.

"No, I. . . I don't like him, really Lavender, it's just. . ."

"It's alright," the other girl said cheerfully, "Your secret's safe with me." Hermione sighed with relief.

* * *

The next day, twenty-two people, not all of them in third year and not all of them in Gryffindor, asked Hermione if she had _done_ anything with the Defense teacher. When she blushed scarlet, they elaborated as to exactly what they heard, and, more than once, Hermione was forced to shake her head vigorously and sprint for the privacy of Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. 

Even Myrtle had heard the rumor, though. The ordinarily glum ghost absolutely delighted in tormenting Hermione with her supposed crimes. The library, usually a silent sanctuary echoed malevolently with whispered comments and glittered with eyes peering at the girl between the shelves.

Hermione was certain that the entire school suspected her of the high crime of a student-teacher relationship, that she would be under close scrutiny for the remainder of the year, that her time-turner would be discovered, and that, worst of all, everyone would know about her infection. Or maybe she was just paranoid.

When she returned to the common room that night, Hermione had a full speech prepared to deliver her friends. They, however, were indifferent. Each murmured a "hi" before returning to their Charms essays.

After waiting a few seconds, she said, "Aren't you going to ask me something?" a little tersely.

Harry and Ron looked up at her and exchanged a confused glance.

"Ummmm," said Harry.

"Did you get a haircut?" asked Ron.

Hermione let out an exacerbated noise and flopped into a seat beside them. Apparently, it had only been paranoia.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was trudging against a bitter wind toward the all-wizard community of Hogsmead, praying that Wizards had such muggle things as pawn shops. She turned down one alley and another, hoping to bump into such a slightly dingy but largely friendly store. At the end of one street, a rather gruesome sign displaying a severed pig's head hung over a dirty pub. The store in front of it, however, looked more promising. 

A cleverly painted sign showed the most common chess piece and a battered gold watch, underneath which a few coins rolled lazily. The pawn shop had a sad, musty smell, not unlike the motheaten linens mothers hope to pass to their daughters upon marriage, and thus rid themselves of the offending family heirlooms. The man behind the counter, whose bald head appeared capped by dust, did not glance at the girl who slipped into his shop.

Hermione fingered through old magazines, but could not find anything promising a recipe for Wolfsbane. She turned to go, nearly stumbling into the man from behind the counter. The dust on his head had not shifted. He looked down his nose at her bushy head, her own nose a centimetre from his chest. "Can I help you?" He asked in a voice as dusty as his head.

"No," she squeaked, and ran from the shop. Dusty laughter followed her outside.

Hermione arrived back at the castle at a complete loss. She couldn't get directions for the Wolfsbane Potion from Snape, and she certainly wasn't going to drink something he brewed, no matter what the headmaster said. Although she defended the great greasy bat quite often, she secretly agreed with Ron; Snape was not to be trusted.

Still pink from the cold outside, she slipped into a seat with Harry beside the common room fire. "Finish your potions essay?" she asked as a flock of girls, Lavender and her friend Parvati among them, fluttered through the portrait hole.

"Kind of," Harry answered, "I've been having trouble explaining how the daisy roots act as a…"

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall's head poked into the common room, "Professor Snape would like to see you immediately." A soft gasp came from the girls before excited giggles and chirps erupted and new rumors could fly.

Harry looked at her in askance. Hermione shrugged, blushed, and hurried to follow the transfiguration teacher.

A brief meeting with Professor Snape arranged for him to provide the third year girl with Wolfsbane each night via the enchanted tables at dinner the night before each full moon. A goblet full of the noisome brew would appear with desert. If anyone asked, Hermione was to explain it was a drought to reduce the pain caused by an incurable Whooping Toe Cough. It was assumed no one would ask any more questions.

Grudgingly, and probably on Professor Dumbledore's orders, Snape had agreed to teach Hermione to brew the potion on which she'd be dependent for the rest of her life. She would be receiving sporadic detentions from both Snape and McGonagall for the rest of the year, during which she was expected to brew.

Before Hermione could ask exactly how her teachers planned on assigning detention without arousing suspicion, an alarm in Snape's office went off. The Potions Master briskly told Hermione their meeting was done and to return to Gryffindor tower.

That night, Ron was attacked by Sirius Black.

That night, Hermione decided no one could ever know of her affliction, least of all her two best friends. She could not endanger them.

* * *

A/N: 

I'm back! Okay, I can think of a whole bunch of excuses for not updating, none of which are very good. I want to heap piles of praise on those of you who flamed me, thank you! I love you! I really do. Despite the ripples of fear Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince sent down the spine of every pre-HBP story, I will continue to write this story IN CANNON. Next update will, hopefully, be very soon.

PS: I would appreciate both kind and flaming reviews (anybody got marshmallows?).

Much love

Zvezdana


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